


take the stage and deliver

by mothwrites



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Wolf 359 Big Bang 2017, double agent jacobi, set during desperate measures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: “Why me?” Jacobi asked.“You’re just his type,” Cutter said. “He’ll never see it coming.”Wolf 359 Big Bang 2017 // Set during Desperate Measures // Original summary: "turns out maxwell and jacobi secretly outranked kepler all along, and he’s outlived his usefulness."





	take the stage and deliver

**Author's Note:**

> title from panic! at the disco's "mercenary"
> 
> happy big bang, everyone! this turned out a little shorter than i predicted but The Depression hit me hard this month. if people like it i'll happily write more when i'm feeling better!

**take the stage and deliver**

by mothwrites (captainlovelxce)

  
_“Minkowski? I’m gonna shoot Captain Lovelace in the head. And what did I say before? Five minutes? Nah, let’s make it **exciting**. You have until I get to zero. **Ten**.”_

 

  
  
Jacobi knew what Kepler’s voice sounded like when he was bluffing. He wasn’t hearing that tone now. He hit the button on his comms earpiece that connected him straight to Maxwell’s tablet and a secret channel only she could read. _Janus protocol. Now,_ he transmitted, and high-tailed it to the armoury. He arrived just as Lovelace was using her last words to comfort Eiffel, both of them tied up together, and Jacobi reached out a hand to grab Kepler’s wrist as he cocked the gun.  
  
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Kepler asked. Annoyed, but open-minded. Jacobi had earned that. He was about to throw it all away.  
  
“Ordering you to stand down,” Jacobi said. “You can’t shoot her. Sir,” he added, as if that meant anything anymore. “Orders from above.”  
  
“ _I_ am your above,” Kepler retorted. “Get. The Hell. Out of my way.” The murderous glint in his eye returned in full force as Jacobi refused to let go of his wrist. “I don’t care what orders you _think_ you might have, you are _not_ the commander of this ship and this is _not_ your call.”  
  
“Actually,” Jacobi sighed. “I am. And it is. And I’m sorry.”  
  
“Um,” came a voice from the corner.  
  
Oh, right. The prisoners.  
  
“Hera,” Jacobi said, ignoring Eiffel completely. “Please implement protocol 10-1-15-0-2-9.”  
  
“Uh,” Hera replied, sounding just as confused as Eiffel. “Sure. One second.” There was a moment of silence, and a faint humming. “Voice activation required.”  
  
“Daniel Kenneth Jacobi,” Jacobi replied.  
  
“Right,” Hera said. Her voice sounded more confused than ever. “All set… uh, _commander_.”  
  
Kepler's face flicked through a series of expressions almost invisible to the naked eye - unless, of course, you had spent six years carefully studying him - uncertainty, rage, then disgust.  
  
“Stand down,” Jacobi said again. Ordering, not asking.  
  
"And if I say no?" Kepler inquired almost politely, with the force of a tiger ready to pounce behind his words.  
  
Jacobi sighed and seconds later watched him fall forward in the space between them, ignoring the cry of surprise and the winces from Kepler's hostages who were still tied up in the corner.  
  
"Then Maxwell's going to hit you in the head with a wrench," he informed Kepler's unconscious body.  
  
Maxwell stepped forward and surveyed him. "I've been looking forward to that," she said, but the quip sounded hollow and tired. "God, what a mess."  
  
"This isn't exactly how I saw the changeover going," Jacobi agreed. He kept his tone light and casual, but his head was buzzing with a million decisions that needed to be made. Standing in reserve for six years had prepared him for this moment, but the reality of finally getting off the bench hit him harder than he'd imagined. He looked down at the man he'd been following: who he'd trusted with his life. The man he shared a bed with.  
  
"Cuff him," Jacobi said.  
  
Maxwell nodded, and set to it. Jacobi was struck by how gently she checked his pulse and moved him upright before cuffing his hands behind his back, and shot her a grateful almost-smile as they locked eyes again. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.  
  
“Um,” Eiffel said again.  
  
Jacobi finally turned his head to look at him. “Yes, Eiffel?”  
  
“ _Commander_?”  
  
Jacobi waved the title off. “You can just keep calling me Jacobi.”  
  
“That wasn’t the question!”  
  
Jacobi glanced at Kepler, and found himself wishing that people stayed knocked out the way they did in the movies. Already he was starting to twitch. “Maxwell, can you take him to the observation deck? Collect Minkowski and Hilbert on the way and meet me on the bridge. Oh, which reminds me.” He tapped the universal comms button on his shoulder. “Minkowski, I’m calling a truce. Don’t make things awkward by refusing it.”  
  
_“Since when do you have the authority to do that?”_ Minkowski asked over the loudspeaker, distrust clear in her voice.  
  
“Since now,” Jacobi replied, unwilling to get into the intricacies of his job over the comms unit. He nodded in acknowledgement at Maxwell, who was floating Kepler out of the door and closing it behind her. “Hera, could you please confirm?”  
  
Hera spoke immediately. “He’s right, lieutenant. Commander Jacobi has complete authority over this ship. Colonel Kepler has been, uh… subdued, and is on his way to the brig.”  
  
“Seriously, just ‘Jacobi’ is fine. How about it, Minkowski?”  
  
_“Eiffel? Lovelace? Are you two okay?”_  
  
“Still restrained,” Lovelace said slowly. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Jacobi since he’d entered the Urania’s armoury. “But unharmed.”  
  
_“Let them go,”_ Minkowski said.  
  
“Of course. Maxwell’s coming to bring you two to join us.” He flicked a button and switched to Minkowski’s private channel, so they were no longer speaking through the ship’s loudspeaker. “And if you try anything funny with _her_ , I promise there is nowhere on this ship you can hide where I _won’t find you._ ” As his only remaining crewmate, and the only shred of normalcy he had left, Maxwell’s safety was now more than ever his first priority. He would never forget the cold rush of anger that had swept over him when he’d discovered Lovelace and Hilbert’s plans for them. He busied himself with Eiffel’s handcuffs instead of dwelling on it.  
  
“It’s all right, Commander,” Eiffel said, as soon as his comms unit was back online. “I think we’re good here.” He rubbed his wrists and sighed. “But, uh, questions? _So_ many questions.”  
  
“We’ll get there,” Jacobi said, and regarded Lovelace intently.  
  
“What about me?” she asked. Her face betrayed nothing.  
  
“Depends,” he said. “You were the one who had me earmarked for a gooey, fiery death – unless you’ve forgotten about that room full of napalm you and Hilbert have been oh-so-secretly stockpiling. And you nearly hit my best friend in the head with a wrench. Why _should_ I uncuff you?”  
  
“We did decide _against_ the napalm,” Eiffel reminded him, after a few seconds of surprised silence.  
  
“Reluctantly,” Lovelace grumbled.  
  
“ _Not helping._ And, by the way, I seem to remember Maxwell hitting us with the wrench.”  
  
“And _that’s_ helping?”  
  
“I’m usually happy to see napalm,” Jacobi told Lovelace, while taking her wrists to punch in the unlock code. “You’ve ruined napalm for me.”  
  
“I’m deeply sorry,” Lovelace said, sounding as unapologetic as a person could. “Thanks for freeing us. Now would you kindly explain what the _hell_ is going on with you and Kepler?”  
  
“Later,” he said. “Anything else I should know about? Smallpox virus in the water? Is Hera set to self-destruct?”  
  
“Definitely not,” Hera said, sounding offended. “Not that I can do anything with Dr Maxwell’s code _strangling_ me.”  
  
“Napalm,” Jacobi reminded all of them, and slid open the armory door so they could all leave. “Cry me a river.”

 

*

 

  
“His name is Warren Kepler,” the sharp-suited man sat opposite Jacobi said, smiling so pleasantly that one could almost forget Cutter’s terrifying reputation. “I want you to keep an eye on him for me.”  
  
Jacobi took the file and leafed through it. Major Kepler, head of the strategic intelligence division at Goddard, stared out at him from a black and white photograph. A dangerous and clearly highly competent man. “What am I watching out _for_ , exactly?” he asked.  
  
Cutter leaned back in his chair, idly stirring his cappuccino with a teaspoon. “Major Kepler is quite possibly my finest agent. But he has a tendency to… go _overboard_ , shall we say. Usually it’s an asset. He’s a risk I enjoy taking, but if one day he goes completely off the rails…” He stopped, and his smile curled into something Jacobi didn’t recognise, or like. “I’ll want someone ready in the wings.”  
  
“Why me?” Jacobi asked.  
  
“You’re just his type,” Cutter said. “He’ll never see it coming.”  
  
Kepler is _magnetic_ , that’s the thing. Half the time, Jacobi forgets what he’s even there for. He plays the drunken mess perfectly in San Francisco and lets Kepler rescue him and clean him up and mould him into the perfect second-in-command, then lets Kepler fuck him and enjoys every goddamn second of it. It doesn’t even feel like a con, because he _does_ work for this man. He follows every order and perfects every mission and sets off any bomb he’s asked to, and all the time he hopes to God that he never has to reveal himself and put an end to the best assignment he’s ever had.

He didn’t actually mean to _seduce_ him, or anything. It’s not for the _job_. He’s a con man, not a prostitute. Those are the words he kept saying to Maxwell, in the back of dingy nightclub Kepler would never dream of setting foot in, a few months after she joined and they met and he realised she was going to be in this with him for the long haul.  
  
“But you can’t deny it _helps_ ,” she said, somehow still able to analyse things perfectly after her third gin and tonic. “Even if it’s not for the job. He still trusts you more because of it.”  
  
“If he does he’s an idiot,” Jacobi said morosely, staring into his fourth - fifth? - tequila. “He knows it’s not a _relationship_. I’m just - what did Cutter say? - oh, yeah. His type.”  
  
“Redheads?” Maxwell asked.  
  
“Obedient. Desperate for approval. A little crazy,” Jacobi corrected her, and downed the rest of his glass. “You get why I’m telling you all this?” he asked, after the all-too-fleeting burn had passed. “Not the sex stuff, we got off-topic there. The original stuff. The Janus protocol. Stupid name.”  
  
“Yes, Daniel.” Maxwell, still a little uncertain, reached out a hand to cover his.  
  
“Are you with me?” he asked. Quiet. Hopeful.  
  
Maxwell looked at him, and herself: a relationship only a few months old. Two scientists dragged into a world of espionage and murder and reluctantly thriving on it. Pushed together under their commanding officer’s watch. The first day they’d met he’d been such a brat; possessive and surly, and Kepler had to lock them both in one of the training rooms underground until they decided to get along. Now when Jacobi wasn’t sleeping at Kepler’s place he was at hers, playing old video games and microwaving popcorn and teaching her how to survive in Goddard’s new world. Only a few months and he was already the best friend she’d ever had: and she had the feeling she was his, too.  
  
“Of course I am,” Maxwell said, and smiled. “Let’s go dance.”

*

  
  
Jacobi felt a hand cover his; soft skin and sharp nails, and relaxed a little.  
  
“How are you doing?” Maxwell asked quietly. The original Hephaestus crew had requested a moment to talk in the relative private of the other side of the room, and Jacobi had allowed it. It had left him on his own, however, staring at the console before Maxwell arrived.  
  
“Any problems stowing Kepler away?” he asked, instead of answering her. It was a stupid question anyway, and it always had the same answer. He was doing whatever he needed to get the job done.  
  
“None,” she said. She surveyed him carefully as he kept an eye on the group in the corner. “Jacobi,” she continued, in an even lower voice. “What do I need to know about tomorrow?”  
  
Jacobi sighed. “That it’s going to be an absolute shit-show,” he said. “But not the shit-show it would have been if we’d let him shoot Lovelace.”  
  
“You are going to need to explain,” she told him firmly.  
  
“Later,” he promised, and motioned to the rest of their crew, still waiting for an explanation themselves. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  
  
*

  
  
“ _Mr Jacobi_. You spineless, double-crossing, miserable excuse for a – “  
  
“Oh, save it.” Jacobi enjoyed Kepler’s speechless expression for a second – it wasn’t often that he got to interrupt the man’s endless stream of words. “No-one else is listening, so don’t _Mr Jacobi_ me. I just came to talk.” He looked Kepler up and down, taking in the blossoming purple bruise on his head and an expression that had gone way past the ‘blunt trauma face’.  
  
“Well, _angel_ ,” Kepler said, putting a malicious spin on his one, rarely-used (and always coveted) term of endearment. “You wanna tell me what in the name of God you think you’re doing?”  
  
“Saving you from yourself,” Jacobi replied: partly because it was true, and partly because he enjoyed Kepler’s indignant expression at the cliché. “Look, I never wanted to do this. You forced my hand. The contact event is _tomorrow_ : shooting one of the aliens is a _bad_ idea and you know it.”  
  
“That’s not your goddamn _call_ ,” Kepler spat. “Or maybe it is – what do I know? How long?”  
  
Jacobi settled himself, floating about half a metre in front of Kepler. “What?”  
  
“How long have you been waiting to _stab me in the back_ , Daniel? When did you get your orders? Before we left? Or was there a pulse beacon I missed?”  
  
“Oh. No.” Jacobi hadn’t realised that Kepler would assume this was a new development. It complicated things. “No, Cutter came to me before you did. In 2011.”  
  
Kepler seemed to almost relax in his shock. “So you’ve been lying to me from the start.”  
  
“Not everything was a lie,” Jacobi said immediately. “This was only ever a break-in-case-of-emergency protocol. I still worked for you. I still - ” he continued, and then stopped himself. He’d never said it out loud, and now didn’t seem like the time. “You know. Just because I had to keep an eye on you, that doesn’t mean – “  
  
“Save it,” Kepler said, echoing his earlier words. “What about Maxwell?”  
  
“No, she was yours. I only told her a few months after she joined. Had a feeling…” He shrugged, and gestured vaguely to the walls of the space station around them. “This place does bring out the worst in people.” _The Hephaestus. Space. Goddard.  
_

“She chose to follow you over me. No surprise there,” Kepler said. “You know, I always wondered if the two of you combined could be a threat to me.”  
  
“I’m not a _threat_ to you,” Jacobi said immediately. “My orders were never to – and even if they _were_ –“ He stopped, struggling with himself, and regretted it immediately. A slow smile spread over Kepler’s face as he realised he’d found a foothold.  
  
“Never to what, Daniel? To kill me? You might still have to, you know.”  
  
Jacobi said nothing.  
  
“I would have,” Kepler continued. “In your place. I would have shot you without a second thought. You think the rules are different because I’ve fucked you? You’re not _special_. You need to get a grip before you lose control of this situation completely.”  
  
Jacobi understood: it was the only way Kepler could hurt him in this position, chained up and furious with no other way to release his anger. It worked. Jacobi’s fists curled, knuckles turning white and fingernails cutting into his palms as Kepler continued.  
  
“And here I was hoping we could resolve this civilly,” he said dryly when Kepler stopped for breath. “Sir, you understand orders. Would you really have wanted me to go against Mr Cutter for you? Why? Because you’re _special_?” He reveled in the silence that followed. “I never lied to you, Warren. You just underestimated me.”  
  
The two men locked eyes, neither willing to back down.  
  
“You’re going to need all hands on deck when the contact event happens,” Kepler said eventually. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me you’ll let me out if I play nice?”  
  
Jacobi laughed, and shook a small plastic tub that he retrieved from his pocket. “Not even slightly. I got things from here, thanks. But Maxwell’s pretty handy with a wrench: I thought you might need some aspirin. Yes? No?” He came closer, and daringly cupped Kepler’s face with the hand that wasn’t holding the painkillers. “Up to you. You can be all stoic and manly if you like.”  
  
Kepler reluctantly nodded, and Jacobi pressed two white capsules to his lips, making a show of breaking the seal on the cap first to prove they weren’t anything sinister. That earned him an eye-roll, and he smirked. He brushed a thumb over Kepler’s lower lip.  
  
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Kepler said, after swallowing, looking rather like he’d like to bite the hand on his face, (and not in a fun way). “Lovelace is – “  
  
“An alien?” Jacobi almost laughed at the surprised expression that faced him, and dropped his hand. “Why did you think I stopped you from shooting her? Is it that hard for you to comprehend that maybe, actually, I do know what the fuck I’m doing? That people who aren’t _you_ can still actually be competent? Wait, don’t answer that. I know exactly how hard that is for _you_ to comprehend.”

The cold fury in Kepler’s eyes was all the more dangerous for how personal it was. Jacobi had never been on the end of it before - Kepler’s fury, yes, but never so full of betrayal and disgust before. At that moment, he hated his job more than anything. He reached out and touched Kepler’s hands, suddenly struck with the knowledge at that moment that they had probably already had their last kiss, their last night together, the last kind words exchanged between them. Jacobi couldn’t even remember what the latter were. He cursed himself for not savoring it while there was time. There could still be time. There had to still be time.

Kepler jerked his head, motioning for Jacobi to come closer, and Jacobi automatically obeyed. Fury still danced in his colonel’s eyes. “I have one more question,” he said.

“Knock yourself out. Ooh. Sorry.”

“Did you whore yourself out to Cutter as well, or just me?” Kepler asked, voice dripping with acid.

Jacobi didn’t let it burn him. “Just you, sweetheart,” he replied, and leaned in, whispering. Kepler’s eyes fell closed as the millimetres between them decreased. “Only ever you.”

A buzz made them both start. “ _Jacobi,_ ” came Maxwell’s voice from over the speakers. “ _We have a call coming through from Command.”_

There was no time.

“That was quick,” Jacobi sighed, and stepped back, leaving the space in between them empty again. “On my way.”

Kepler called out his name as he reached the door, and he paused, one hand on the metal. “Yes?” he asked, not looking around. If the call was about what he thought it was, he wanted his last sight of Kepler’s face to be the beautiful, half-lidded second before a kiss that never was.

“This is your show now, Daniel,” Kepler said from behind him. “So what _are_ you going to do?”

“I’m going to get the job done,” Jacobi said, almost automatically. “Cause, you know. We don’t go home until we get the job done.”

“ _We_?” Kepler asked. Either Jacobi was more tired than he thought, or Kepler had said it… softly. Despite himself, he turned around, and knew in that moment that no matter what orders he was about to receive from Canaveral, he meant what he was going to say next.

“We,” he repeated, and left to join the crew of his station.

 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me @captainlovelxce on tumblr and please feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed this rambling angst

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] take the stage and deliver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187390) by [seventeencrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeencrows/pseuds/seventeencrows)
  * [[podfic] take the stage and deliver](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322561) by [TwoMenAndAGuava (drakkynfyre47)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakkynfyre47/pseuds/TwoMenAndAGuava)




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